


And I Promise I'm Trying

by saltyfandombrat



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Bobby | Trevor Wilson Backstory, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, F/M, Good Parent Bobby | Trevor Wilson, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfandombrat/pseuds/saltyfandombrat
Summary: In his first few therapy sessions, Bobby Wilson was told that writing letters to the ones he loved could help him cope with loss. Decades later, ever curious, Carrie confronts him about what he wrote.
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Original Female Character(s), Ray Molina/Rose
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. The Beginning

Carrie hadn’t been snooping. That was what she would assert to herself after she found a bundle of letters on the table in her father’s meditation room. She had just been looking for her own music, really. Her papers were nowhere to be found and she knew she sometimes took it with her when she went to meditate in there, reading over it and trying to come up with better lyrics after she had cleared her head. And they rested on the couch, still messy from where she hadn’t cleaned it up from last time. But the letters had caught her attention, it was a thick stack that was tied together with a neat ribbon around it. She couldn’t read what was written on it, she wasn’t even sure if anything was, as the silk obscured her view of it. What she could make out was the small hearts that decorated the outside of the envelope. It was too interesting for her not to grab it before she left, heading downstairs to find her father with the letters in hand. 

“What are these?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, merely curious as she presented the stack to him. His eyes widened and he frowned a bit at the first glimpse of the papers, he cursed himself for leaving them out where she could find them. Nobody was ever supposed to find them. Hell, he hadn't even read over most of the letters after he wrote them out, yet here they were. And it wasn't like he could just brush them off now that he was being confronted with them now, especially not by Carrie. She was much too stubborn to just let the subject fall. And he had to be proud of her for that, he had raised her to always go after the things she wanted, to take life by the throat and refuse to let go. He couldn't fault her for taking the advice he had always tried to instill in her, he wouldn't reprimand her for being as forward as he had always wanted to be. So, he simply sighed and patted the cushion next to him on the couch, beckoning her to come over. 

“Well, have a seat and we’ll talk about it,” Trevor agreed because sometimes it was easier than fighting a losing battle. There was no real reason to hide them from her anyway. She was a bit older now and he thought that she could grasp certain concepts a little bit better than when she was a child. “Do you remember how I told you my band died? And that I had to go see a lot of doctors for a long time?” He had told her about his boys, just leaving out too many details, he couldn’t relive that with her. When she nodded, he took a deep breath to compose himself and continued. He wasn't going to break down in front of her, he decided, he had always managed to stay strong for her and he didn't intend on breaking his record now. And especially not before the letters were even opened up, but he couldn't deny the rush of memories that flooded back into his mind as he remembered all the nights he had spent on them. Occasionally high and always crying. 

“One of my first doctors said I should write some letters to the people I love. To express all the things I couldn’t say,” Trevor explained to her, retelling the concept behind the letters the best that he could. It felt weird to have his secret on display like this now, but it felt like a weight was being lifted. As cliché as it sounded. Silence fell over them for a few seconds, but his daughter had always been very easy to read, her expressions clear as day. Her eyes were focused on the letters and he knew exactly what she wanted. “Yes, you can read them,” He conceded with her silent question, holding them out towards her and she took them after a brief moment of hesitation. She seemed like she was considering leaving the letters alone, perhaps she could sense that this was hard for him and didn't want to risk upsetting him, but he was offering and she was far too curious to let the moment go to waste. She had to know what her father had written to the people he had loved. 

“Which one should I start with?” Carrie asked him, unsure if they were in any specific order or if it mattered at all. She was indecisive when it came to this anyway, the shock of it all was still wearing off. Her father had always been open about seeking therapy and had always expressed there was no shame in needing someone else’s help to get better. But they had never talked in depth about things like this and she was a bit nervous if she was being honest. She was unsure of what she was going to find when she started reading through the letters and that scared her, not very many things did, but the unknown was always frightening. And somewhere deep down, she worried that the topic might hit a little too close to home for her. The falling out with Julie still felt like a fresh wound, even if she buried it beneath sarcasm and the front of no longer caring about her, she still considered Julie a friend on some level and she missed her more than anything. 

“Just start with the top one. It was the first one I ever wrote,” Trevor’s throat felt tight as he stared at the letters. It felt all too real to him as pretty pink nails carefully untied the ribbon that had held the letters together for months, just under a year by that point. Carrie would be the first person to ever read them aside from himself, he had never shown them to anyone else. Not even any of the therapists he had gone to, none had ever asked him to display the contents of the letters. It had been just for him. This was allowing himself to be vulnerable in a way that he never let himself be, but he trusted his daughter more than anyone. She placed the ribbon aside and took a breath as she read the name. Reggie Peters. One of her uncles, one that had died back in 1995, but he had always assured her was watching over her in heaven. And that he was "so proud" of how she was turning out, even though he had never been able to meet her in his lifetime. It was dated July 22nd, 1997. 


	2. Reggie Peters

**Dear Reggie,**

I’ll never forget how alone I felt when I first moved to California, how much I missed everywhere I had been before, how I had the same sinking feeling I always did in a new place. That concept that everything in this life was temporary and it would only be a matter of time before I packed up to move again. I had no hopes of making any friends when I got to Los Feliz because I never had anywhere else. You were the first person to ever prove me wrong in that regard. And I will never forget that. Your smile is still etched into my mind today. Losing you was the hardest, I think because there’s still so much of you left in me. Parts I can never escape. Parts I never want to leave behind. 

Everything now seems to act as a reminder of you. It makes me feel like I’m losing my mind, but I don’t want it to disappear. Not completely. I guess I just want it to be easier, you know? Like, I miss hearing your laugh filling the studio. It felt so empty without it. There was a joke in the newspaper today and it made me think of you. “I used to play the piano by ear. Now I just use my hands,” I think you would have liked it. Your humor was always kind of like that, I never thought I’d miss hearing your cheesy puns. I do, though. I’m trying to work through things, but it’s hard right now. I’m trying to make myself feel less alone, but you know I was never the best when it came to making new friends. 

But I bought a pet chinchilla last week. I named her Agemem and she’s the softest thing ever, and she’s so sweet. You’d love her, Reg. It reminded me of all those summers when we would go back to your parents old farm for a few weeks. It was pretty nice of the new tenants to let us hang around, but I guess they could see how much the animals meant to us. I checked in on them last year and they were doing well, one of the horses had a foal. They named him Reggie. I figured getting Agemem would be easier to keep up with than an actual person at this point, but you remember that girl from the night of the Orpheum? Rose? Well, I kept her number. Can you believe that?

Even though things are pretty fucked up now, they were even worse earlier on, she’s been consistent. I think that’s what I needed. Something constant. Everything was changing so fast. She’s so kickass, she has this band called Rose and the Petal Pushers. They’re supposed to be going on a mini tour at the end of this tour, they’re really, really good. She’s been a really good friend to me and I don’t have many of those anymore. My doctor says that it’s a good sign that I’m “getting back out there” and actually talking to people again. I closed myself off from everybody else for a while, I know, I know. You would have hated to see me doing that to myself. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be better. 

**Only Love,**  
**Bobby**

“I remember pictures of you and Agemem,” Carrie’s voice was a little wobbly as she spoke and Trevor couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her shoulders, not wanting to hear her cry. Not over him, especially. But he smiled at her words, he had shown her a few photos from when he was younger. None from before the night of the Orpheum and none in the couple years following it. That was only because there weren’t many pictures from right after the Orpheum, he hadn’t touched his camera for the longest time, not when he had taken so many shots of his band. It was one of those things that brought back memories that he wasn’t ready to confront quite yet. He didn’t read the letter as her eyes moved along the words, he didn’t feel like he needed to. Even years later, the sentences felt burned into his mind. It was as if he could recite them all just like he could recite his...Their songs. He cleared his throat as if to clear his own mind. 

“Are you okay, baby?” His words were delicate with her, lacking judgment just as they always did. It had always been important to him that she felt like she could express her opinions and like her voice mattered. Because it did. There was nobody in the world more important to him than she was. And she deserved to be in a safe space where she felt comfortable opening up to him, potentially about things that would be upsetting for a bit, but ultimately needed to be addressed. But he couldn’t help feeling like maybe the question was to deflect from his own feelings at that moment. She picked up on it, she had to have, she was like him in that way. They were both good at picking up on someone else’s feelings, especially each other’s. Luckily, that wasn’t the only way they were similar because she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she gave a small nod of her own that didn’t quite seem fully confident, but he didn’t push it either. He trusted her to talk to him if she needed to and only when she was ready to open up. 

“It’s just that you’ve never really talked to me about this kind of stuff,” They weren’t exactly an answer, but it sounded like she was trying to work something out inside of her head. Like she had a million questions and she was answering all of them herself. She tried not to be upset with him about so much of the letter being hidden from her, but she had always been so close with her dad. To her mind, they told each other everything. They had always been so open and upfront with one another, and that was something she had always admired about her dad, he never tried to bullshit her. He had always talked to her like she was a person who was capable of understanding just as much as he was. So, why had he been keeping this away from her when it was clearly such a big part of his life? “Why did we never talk about any of this?” Her words had a hint of hurt to them now and that made Trevor’s chest tighten. He didn’t like the idea of her being in pain, especially not when he was the one causing it, even inadvertently. 

“I’ve just always felt like I needed to be a father to you. You know, it’s not my job to be your friend,” Trevor thought those words sounded harsh, but he hoped Carrie would understand what he meant when he said them. Of course, he loved her and had always tried to speak to her like a person. Because she was one. But it was always a very delicate line he had to walk, he still needed to be responsible and be the one in control. “If you were my friend, I would have felt better about unloading all of that on you, but you’re my child. Not my therapist. It was more important to me that I made sure you had a strong support system,” She seemed to consider his answer in the same way she considered everything, a look of healthy skepticism on her face, but it was tinted with understanding and riddled with compassion. And after a few seconds that seemed like minutes, she seemed to accept the answer she had been given with a polite nod. 

“I want to keep reading,” Carrie decided and carefully tucked the first letter back into the envelope, passing it off to her dad as she picked up the one that had been below it. This one had light stains on the outside of the envelope and she suspected they might be watermarks from tears, but she didn’t comment on that out loud. She just took a note of it and tried not to be too sad, not in a way that her father could see anyway. Trying to distract herself from the tears, her fingernail stroked over the fine stationery, smiling softly at it. It didn’t have the same hearts on the edges of it as the first one did, this one had tiny music notes instead. She wondered if they had any significant pattern and she thought they might, given how many there were, each of the lines delicate and meticulous, and careful in a way she had never seen her father’s writing before. But this one was addressed to another one of her uncles. August 13th, 1998. 


	3. Luke Patterson

**Dear Luke,**

There’s so much I want to say to you and no good place to begin. You’re the person I regret leaving the most because you had already lost so much. You deserved so much better than you got and I always hoped that maybe I would be different. That me and Alex, and Reggie, would be the ones to offset all the pain you had gone through. We loved you unconditionally, supported your dreams no matter how wild. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry. I never meant to let you go, I should have done more, I shouldn’t have let you guys walk out that night. I should have gone with you. Maybe if I did go with you, I would’ve been able to do something to save you all. Or maybe that’s false hope, something I need to tell myself because it’s less scary than thinking that there was nothing anyone could have done and that was just how you were always meant to go. 

I don’t want to say I’m doing better because every day still hurts, some are easier than others at this point, but I still struggle with it so much. You’d be happy to know that I visit Mitch and Emily a lot. I hope you know that they forgive you for walking out that night and that they’re sorry, they regret letting you go as much as I do. It broke all of us, Luke. We miss you so much. I’m going to see them for your birthday. I always take them flowers. I know I never really got along with your parents when you were still alive, but I'm trying to get better about that. I don't want them to be alone, but more than that, I don't wanna be alone either. We're the only things left that are connected to you, it's important that we stay together. I think we really need one another, I'm glad I got the chance to get to know them better. They're wonderful people. 

I hope it’s okay if I bring Rose this year? The girl from the Orpheum, she just got off tour and she said she would go with me if I needed her to. She’s become a good friend of mine and it’s been hard these past few weeks, I don’t know if I can handle going by myself. It's been really hard for me to do things that remind me of you guys, maybe it's because your birthday is coming up, I don't know. Your birthdays are a hard time of the year for me, all of them are, but especially yours. I can't explain it, but I just feel so fucking guilty for not making you go back to talk to your parents one last time before you died. I feel like I could have done more and maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad now if I had pushed it a little...I’m so excited for them to meet her, though, they’ll love her. She bought the most beautiful bouquet of dahlias, they’re her favorites. 

There’s also this guy we’ve met and been talking to. His name is Ray and he does photography part-time, can you believe that? Obviously, we’ve been getting along really well. We have a lot to talk about and he’s so nice, he tells the goofiest jokes, though. It reminds me of Reggie. You’d make fun of us when we’re all together, we’re total dorks. I think that he has a crush on Rose and I’m pretty sure she likes him back. They get weird whenever they’re around one another, like they’re trying really hard to impress the other person. It’s cute, they deserve one another. We all fit really well together, I think, we have a good dynamic and they genuinely seem to like being around me. I feel more like myself when I’m with them, like I’m less broken in a way, it feels easier to pull myself out of that dark cave when I have one of them near me. It’s been good. 

The other day, Ray asked us out for a camping trip and do you know what we did the whole time? We took pictures of the stars. Rose pointed out so many of the constellations, it was such a good night. I can’t remember the last time I felt that at ease, I’ve laughed more with them this year than I have since the night of the Orpheum if I’m being honest. And that’s a really refreshing feeling, it’s like seeing that you haven’t lost who you were. Like, yeah. I’m broken and patched up, but through those patches, there’s still a bit of light that’s shining through. It made me feel like maybe things could be okay again. I don’t want you to feel like I’m replacing you or trying to at all. Nothing could ever take the place of any of you guys, I’m just tired of being alone. Of being scared to open myself back up to other people. Please don’t let me be alone anymore. 

**Only Love,**

**Bobby**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the updated tags on this work, this chapter is very heavy!

Trevor reached a hand over to grab the next letter, pausing Carrie’s hands from opening it just yet. He knew how much things could affect her, even when she tried to hide it. She read into things, she held onto them for a long time, she let her mind race with them. And he didn’t want this to be something that plagued her mind for days to come. There might not be a way to avoid it except taking the letter from her, but he had promised her she could read over them. He wasn’t about to take that offer back, so he decided to simply brace her for it. 

“Before you read over this one, I just want you to know that things have changed a lot since then, okay?” Trevor assured her and he really meant it, a lot had turned around for him. He wasn’t in the same place anymore, thankfully, he didn’t want her to ever have to worry about something like that with him. Her eyebrows instantly furrowed at this preface and she was only made suspicious about the letter in her hands now, but she nodded and he released his grip on the paper. She unfolded it carefully and her eyes began scanning over the words.  _ October 27th, 2001. _

**Dear Alex,**

I’m sorry that this letter is so late. There’s not really an excuse, I guess. But things have been so hectic. Wherever, you are, I don’t want you to freak out. I mean, if you believe in an afterlife, you’re watching me from Heaven right now and losing your shit. But. I tried to kill myself this month. I haven’t told that to anyone yet, isn’t that crazy? I don’t even know if I meant to do it. I was just so tired, I just wanted to get some sleep for once. Guess I went a little too far this time. 

I’ve been taking these sleeping pills lately. It’s the only way I can ever get any rest. And I like that it really puts me out, you know? Being awake means I have to stress about things and I just can’t do that right now. I guess I took too many. I don’t know if I meant to, that’s the scariest part of it all. I don’t know which is scarier. Thinking that I could have accidentally died or the idea that maybe I really did want to die. It didn’t even feel like I was making a choice to do it, I just took one and then another, and then...I don’t know how many. The doctors said they were surprised they got all of them out of me in time. 

I feel so alone right now. Nobody even knows what happened. I didn’t even tell anyone. My parents were my emergency contact, but their number has changed since then. I don’t wanna tell Ray or Rose. They’ll just worry. Of course. The first person I open up to is some dead guy. They’re off and married, my parents are gone, out of state. Where does that leave me? I’m back to fucking square one. I’m all alone again and it feels like being right back outside the Orpheum. At least I have my music, but even then, it’s not...It’s not important. I’ll explain everything later. 

Things have just been so hard lately. I don’t even know where to start in fixing my problems. I’ve been playing our songs again. “My songs.” I’m so sorry. Tell Luke I’m sorry. But it’s the only thing that gives me any sense of familiarity anymore. I wish you guys were here with me, but you’re not. I just hope that you know that you three are with me every time I go on stage, okay? That’s never going to change. But it’s been tearing me apart, feeling like I betrayed you guys. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so fucked up lately. Everything has been falling down around me, it feels like. 

Hell, I can’t even feel happy about the music either. Not only am I going against you guys, but you’re not here. It’s supposed to be our music. I’m not happy because Sunset Curve should be huge right now, not just some guy I say I am. But there’s no way to make that happen, I can’t even fucking talk about you guys to anyone. Goddamn agents. They say it’s bad for my image if I become known as “that guy who has the dead band.” It’s so unfair. Sometimes I wish I had been the one to go out before the Orpheum, it’s scary how often that thought keeps coming up in my mind lately. I should really go get some help soon, but I just feel like there’s nothing anyone can do. A therapist can’t bring you back. 

When I woke up, they talked to me a lot about what happened. I don’t think I’ve been asked that many questions since I lost you guys, it didn’t exactly help the situation any. But they didn’t know, I guess. The doctors were asking me weird questions like I was able to think to answer any of them. Like I wasn’t laying there, half awake and half dead when they were talking to me. They asked me if I was trying to kill myself, I told them no. I don’t even know if I lied to them about that, I think I was being honest, looking back on it now. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted things to be better. 

**To better days,**

**Bobby.**

**P.S. only love**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're ever feeling like this or anything similar, please reach out to the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (1-800-273-8255.) You're not alone, things do get better. <3


End file.
